Forgiveness - Sex Stories

Forgiveness

... know the truth about the events which changed and shaped my life. I am leaving this with a friend to post when the time comes. Some people may think they recognize the cities or the names, but be assured that I have changed so much that your guesses will not be correct. It was 1959 when it happened– or perhaps I should say, when it began. I had just turned eighteen, but I was a very, very young eighteen. Almost all of the boys my age were already shaving daily. All at least had a full thatch of hair between their legs. My twin brother, Tony, had a thick black mustache. The closest I had to a mustache was a thin wisp of hair across my pubic bone just above my penis. I think it goes without saying that I was also a virgin. Even though we were born at the same time, Tony and I technically weren’t twins. I was what was called a superfoetation sibling. Mom evidently had another cycle after she got pregnant with Tony and I was conceived a month– or maybe two– later. Only one child was expected– there was no ultrasound in those days. Twins were a big surprise for both my mom and the doctors in the delivery room. I was born first and the doctors assumed both of us were premature, so they rushed me to premie intensive care and reserved an area for the second twin. When Tony came out fully developed at eight and a half pounds it totally stumped everyone. I was always small and way behind other kids in my class even though, because of health problems, I ended up starting school two ...

... years later than Tony. I was at least a year older than almost all of the kids in my class, but I was still smaller than any of them. That made me an easy target for bullying and teasing. Tony, on the other hand, was always one of the biggest– if not the biggest– kid in his class. Everyone not only left him alone, they avoided him whenever they could. My sophomore year of high school the teasing got really bad. It was obvious that I wasn’t as “mature” as most of the other kids in my class, so some of the boys in my gym class started making fun of me in the shower and calling me a fag. It would have been a lot worse except for two things. One, some of the kids in the class weren’t fully through puberty either, and two, my big brother Tony would have beaten the crap out of anyone who really hurt me. I liked to think that he was being a loving, protective, big brother– and maybe that was part of it, but mostly he thought that making fun of me and making me cry was his exclusive privilege. He always called me “Baby Brother,” and I could tell that he loved the way it made me feel uncomfortable or even turn red when he did so in front of my classmates. Then everything changed forever. It was the summer after Tony graduated. He and three of his friends were going down to the park to watch a night baseball game. Baseball was a really big thing in my home town, but I guess it was in any small, Midwestern town in those days. A team from “the city”– that’s what everyone called the nearby ...